


When We Face Each Other

by hanahikari



Category: Noragami
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 02:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10845009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanahikari/pseuds/hanahikari
Summary: "It's my fault," was all they could think about."I'm sorry," was all they could say.Will she be saved?Will he save her?She declared war, but could she survive the aftermath?He declared war, but could he handle to consequences?





	1. Cord of the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one-shot in two parts, based on chapters 48-51, the scanlated versions online, of course (bookstores in my country don't have this series). You might notice that the main title, and the title for Yato's POV are actually chapter titles, selected for their appropriateness in the situation.
> 
> For those of you that have only followed the anime: I don't think Noragami Aragoto will cover this part. But you people who have read the manga: you know what's coming for you!
> 
> Initially posted in FF.net; written back in 10/7/15; posted on 5/9/17 here on AO3.

This is all my fault.

All my fault.

If I hadn’t been talkative, if I hadn’t challenged Yato’s father, if I hadn’t so arrogantly told him to ‘Bring it on!’—

I said the right thing, didn’t I?

He _is_ using Yato against his will. Yato wanted to change—wanted _so_ badly to change. He’s doing everything he can to leave his past as a god of calamity and be a god of fortune instead!

I was _right_ ; he was _wrong_.

I was right… right?

I don’t know.

I don’t know anymore.

Because of me… because of _me_ , my parents got hurt.

My stupidity had my mother injured, still unconscious in this bed; she almost got stabbed—only to be struck on the head with a potted plant by a man possessed by an ayakashi.

But what can I do for her?

All I did was cry over her bloodied body. I can’t even stop the bleeding.

And yet she said that I was a good girl.

My stupidity had my father tormented, his back against the wall; he’s getting screamed at and apologizing for things that happened through no fault of his own.

But what can I do for him?

All I’m doing is cry, tremble, mutter my ‘I’m sorry’s that nobody would hear. I can’t even turn around and look at the barrage my father is enduring.

And yet he wanted me to do what I like.

What kind of daughter am I?

I don’t deserve all of it.

“I’m sorry…”

Mother.

“I’m sorry…”

Father.

“I—I—I did something I can’t take back…”

Ah… this, I knew to be true.

“This is my fault.”

I gripped the edge of my skirt.

The terrible sounds outside, in the corridors of the hospital—of glass vases breaking, of IV drip stands toppling, of people’s anguished screaming—had long since started fading, and yet there was such a violent silence ringing in my ears—

I flinched as I felt a hand hovering above my shoulder, as a scent I knew too well registered to me, as a voice I’ve been wanting to hear spoke my name.

Yato—can he grant my wish?

“H—Hiyori, this isn’t your—”

No! Don’t say it!

I spun around and angrily slapped his hand away.

Wait—

Why... why did I do that?

Why am I _this_ furious?

Where—at whom is it directed?

Is it at his father?

Is it at him— _no_.

No.

I have stood up, and advanced a step toward him, curling my fingers at my sides.

I met his turquoise eyes, saw the way he looked at me—as though I were a _monster_ —and I realized I can’t look at him.

I can’t bear to look at him.

I am furious... with _myself_.

I am ashamed of myself.

I don’t deserve my parents; I don’t deserve his kindness.

And to think I wanted to be a doctor?

I wanted to be a doctor for my parents and my grandparents, to be able to inherit the hospital so that Brother won’t have to do it—to make all of them _happy_.

Hah.

Doctors _cannot_ make mistakes, because so many lives depend on them.

A mistake can make the difference between life and death.

And here I am.

I just committed the biggest mistake of my life.

I don’t deserve to be a doctor.

I hid my face with my hands, and I could still smell the metallic tang of blood—the blood of my mother mixed with his blood—on them, as I backed away from him, from his welcome—

I am a _failure_.

A letdown for my parents.

What would Brother say?

What—

Oh.

Brother said it’s okay to run away.

Once upon a time when we were both in bed, and I was just a clueless, little girl and he was reading a guidebook about studying abroad.

Back then, I didn’t understand what he was talking about.

But now...

It’s okay to run away, right?

I _need_ to get away.

Even though this is my fault.

Ah…

Nothing makes sense anymore.

“Hiyori… hey…”

Still, he tried to talk to me, tried to approach me, tried to reach me, tried to console me.

But nobody, not even a _god_ , should be that forgiving!

“It’s my fault!”

So, I ran away.

I jumped off the window.

“Hiyori!”

If I hadn’t been in this form, I would have been dead for good as soon as I hit the concrete below.

And maybe that would have been an ending that will be punishment enough for my wrongdoings.

“That’s right, _you_ did this…” the ayakashi continued pursuing me, blaming me, “This is _your_ fault!”

I kept fleeing anyway.

Escaping everything: the parents I disappointed, the hospital I ruined, the people who demanded compensation.

Running where?

I don’t know.

Where would I go?

It doesn’t matter.

After all, I just lost _everything_.

And I deserved to have everything taken away from me because of what I did.

I declared war on someone above my level, and I didn’t think about the consequences.

* * *

_What’s beyond this line?_

_Where does it go?_

_Is it safe over there?_

_I wonder..._

* * *

It has become cold.

And dark.

Even in the streets, even though the sun is bright and shining... it’s so cold and dark.

Where is this, even?

I don’t know.

But it’s ice-cold, and it’s pitch-dark.

It has become harder to breathe, or is it because I have been weeping so hard?

The trembling wouldn’t stop even though I’ve curled up; I had to grit my teeth together to stop them from chattering.

And the voices won’t relent, either.

I know it already!

It’s my fault, and my parents are better off without a daughter like me!

I covered my ears minutes ag—was it minutes ago?

It feels like I’ve been here for days.

I’ve covered my ears, and still the voices are torturous, like a large, angry mob.

A pair of boots crunched at the entrance to—oh, I remember where this is now—the short alley, the sound a jolting shot through my already-harassed ears.

It was followed by a tentative “Hiyori...”

I didn’t dare face him.

“Are you okay?”

The sound of a pair of sharp swords cutting through the pavement.

“I—I’m not sure what to say.”

Ah.

That’s right.

“This was all because of me. It wasn’t your fault!”

Though I am sinful—

“If I’d just pulled myself together and stopped my father—”

—maybe there’s still somewhere I can go to, someone who will still accept me.

As I took in a breath, that familiar smell—it was my favorite smell—hit me again.

Oh— _what a nice scent_.

Wrapped in a warm light, willing to forgive anything—

That’s where I want to be.

I heard my teeth crack as I clenched my jaw hard to stop them from knocking together, and I could taste the tears that haven’t stopped flowing even now.

Will I be saved?

I willed strength into my legs and stood up—

Will I be _happy_?

—and finally looked upon the god who might be able to give me salvation.

“Smells good!”

My voice scratched in my throat as I pounced, and as I sprang forward, I bared my fangs and bit his left arm.

An exclamation of pain issued from him, while I lithely landed on top of a van directly behind him.

The blood—the god’s blood—in my mouth felt so _wrong_ , yet so _right_.

* * *

_What are those lights, in the distance?_

_How about I go forward, farther..._

* * *

“This is bad...”

It was the god’s turn to grit his teeth, as he assessed the bite I gave him.

I remained crouching, waiting.

Has he decided already?

Instead, he chose to climb a nearby rooftop, a string of ayakashi in the form of moths following his trail.

“You can’t cross over, Hiyori! At this rate, you’ll never be able to go back!”

Go _back_?

I returned to ground level, and began to run—run toward my hope for absolution.

I have to convince him.

“No—I can’t go back...”

There’s _nowhere_ for me to go back.

“Help me!”

So, _please..._

“Don’t leave me!”

I don’t want to be alone....

“Take me with you!”

But he didn’t answer me, and instead called for his Shinki’s name—which took the form of double blades that were forged as though from silver and light—to return to its human form.

“R—Revert, Yukine!”

‘Yukine’?

Ah…

‘Yukine’... he was a pale boy, with blond hair and eyes the color of hawthorn fruit.

‘Yukine’, the boy who I’ve been teaching everything I know, until I lost everything.

But he—the god—has to hear me out!

I went for the god while he was giving orders to ‘Yukine’.

* * *

_Why is it that no matter how far I walk, those beckoning lights remain out of reach?_

* * *

He took my right wrist, and the air was knocked out of me as the god slammed me to the ground with his bare hands, and my right shoulder hit the concrete—hard.

If it were done to my physical body, it would have fractured or broken more than just a few bones.

A feral growl ripped from my mouth; he gave a flustered “S—Sorry!” and let me go.

I raked my fingers on his left cheek in revenge.

Why was a god asking for forgiveness from someone like me?

 _I_ should be the one begging for remission.

He merely clenched his jaw and bore it.

I tried to stand up—why isn’t he listening to me?—but a blade of light slashed across my legs and I had to shriek, the sting on my soul-flesh bringing me down of my knees again.

The god echoed my suffering with a scream of his own, while his Shinki apologized profusely.

But the Shinki was apologizing to his god _and_ to me.

* * *

_Ah, Mother! Father! The patients! They’re... alright?_

_Wait—_

_No, don’t look at me like that...._

_Mother—_

_Father—_

_Everyone—please... don’t do this..._

_I have to run... I have to hide, but where?_

_Why am I so tired?_

_I’ve been walking toward that place for so long, and yet it feels I haven’t progressed at all._

_Maybe it’s because of this Cord that ties me to that border._

_Better had it severed._

_I’ll be content if I disappeared here, if that meant I could get away—away from their judgement._

_Even if it’s in this unfamiliar place—_

_Eh?_

_What’s that light?_

_Someone has come to save me?_

_It’s… a god?_

_A... a god has come to save me!_

* * *

I looked up, and saw him falling, falling, falling.

How did he get there?

Does it matter?

As gravity took him, I threw myself on him again.

Hugged him and held him close.

And I thought: Ah, he _really_ does smell nice, and felt warm.

I dug my teeth in his neck.

He screamed and dropped one of his swords; it’s strange, but his agony was _music_ to my ears.

However, why did he react like so?

Doesn’t he want to take me with him?

His back hit the pavement, and I pinned him against the ground and a wall of post boxes.

In defense, he raised the tip of his shorter blade to my neck.

His face was a face promising death.

I went stationary—panting, still waiting.

If he wasn’t going to take me with him, then it will certainly be a sweet mercy if he just ended my useless, miserable existen—

“I’m sorry.”

What?

The god let go of his last blade, and held me in his arms.

Doesn’t he know that I’m close enough to rip off his throat if I wanted to?

But—

What is he doing?

Isn’t he to pass the final judgement on me?

“Hiyori.”

‘Hiyori’?

Is that my name?

“Hiyori, I’m sorry...”

Stop—

“I want to do what you want, but... this is one wish I just can’t grant.”

No— _please_ —

“If... if you die, there are a lot of people you’ll never see again...”

But there’s no one left—

“Th—That’s why... you can’t cross over yet.”

I want to—

“Not—not until... you’re old and gray, Hiyori.”

Why... why is he doing this?

I heavily injured him, and yet he’s telling me this?

On the other hand, I can’t bring myself to attack him again.

He began gently patting my back, softly stroking my hair.

“It’s okay... You’re okay!”

I’m _not._..

“Because, now, you have time to make things right.”

Make things right?

Impossible—that’s—

That’s right.

Why haven’t I thought of that?

But... but _how_?

“You’ve got plenty of people who care about you.”

Why have I run away?

My family will _never_ abandon me, nor will my friends.

Why did I run away?

What was I even so afraid of?

“So, go home...”

I have a _home_ to return to, and the realization of that fact brought tears again to my eyes.

Now, they were of a different sort; they were the good kind of tears.

He was right; I had a home to return to.

He was right; I can make things right.

The _how_ , just like he told me before summer break ended, can be taken slowly.

Yato—he tried so hard for me.

Suddenly, he shuddered underneath, trying to stifle a groan of pain.

I got off of him, clenched both of my hands over his shoulder—near his bleeding and blighted neck that I wished I could heal—

I saw that I put him through a world of pain by blighting him.

I have to apologize... later.

—and nodded.

Yes, you’re right.

Yes, I will return home.

Yes, I will set things right.

And, thank you—

Thank you for turning me away.

Thank you for saving me.

Thank you for being here.


	2. Sound of Cutting Ties

This is all my fault.

All my fault.

I don’t even want to consider the ‘if only’s, because once I started, the list would _never_ end.

These were the thoughts I had the moment I appeared in the Iki General Hospital, witnessing patients going berserk all over the place; as I went with Sekki on an ayakashi-slaying spree to free the people from the hold of the vile creatures, yelling at my father to come out because I knew _he_ was the one behind this incident; as I battled Father, trying to simultaneously defend myself from his physical and psychological attacks while defending the Sekki from Chiki’s wrath.

In that encounter, Chiki already chipped the name I gave my Shinki: 雪.

I was then compelled to give up physically defending myself just so she wouldn’t land a hit on Sekki again, to the point of cutting _myself_ on my own blade.

Father—he _never_ stopped until he got something he wanted, no matter who he had to step on to gain it. And with Chiki—

I’ve always thought that even gods will bend to his whim.

I can’t even tell _that_ psycho woman the truth, when she too might possibly be in danger just by coming to this place.

I was forced to put a blade at her neck just so she would listen to my sorry excuse of an explanation. And I have to thank her for _not_ taking my head off right then and there.

But that doesn’t change the fact that this— _this_ is my fault.

I ran through the mess in the halls, searching, ridding of ayakashi along the way.

“Leaving her body at a time like this...”

She really shouldn’t have.

I’ve made my point with her _many_ times, that while she may be a bit sturdier and a tad powerful in her spirit form, she’s also as good as a sitting duck—especially with that Cord.

She never listens.

“Hiyori!”

Father... he... he never attacked directly, but he always hits where it would hurt the most: _the people you care and love_.

And right now, that would be Yukine...

And Hiyori.

He’s _that_ merciless.

I would have shot past the room if it weren’t for Yukine pulling me back.

There she is; her back was turned to us, and she sat beside her mother... who was lying in bed and had her head bandaged.

I walked in; Yukine attentive and watchful of our surroundings.

In the room, in a corner to the right, Hiyori’s father stood, his head bowed against the verbal onslaught they—the families of the patients here—were giving him.

“Hey, that’s... Hiyori’s dad...”

Yukine’s worry clenched at my heart.

They accused him of all sorts of horrible things, and said that they were going to sue him.

He tried to placate them by saying the police are coming over, and that he was very sorry—except that the police won’t be able to do anything about _this_ and it isn’t _his_ shortcoming that was the cause.

Cautiously, I approached Hiyori, trying to gauge her emotional state; it is natural to get shaken up, to break down, from all that has happened—

“Hiyori...”

Though I expected it, _nothing_ could have prepared me for what I saw.

Hiyori—who was _always_ cheerful, who was courageous to the point of being almost suicidally ridiculous, who _never_ gave up—she was sitting on that stool, _trembling_ and crying, clenching the edge of her skirt till her knuckles were white, as though it were her lifeline.

With a broken voice, she kept muttering, “I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I—I—I did something I can’t take back...”, though no one of the Near Shore could hear her.

An image of a Shinki I once named—she was crying too, she was hurting too—flashed in my mind.

I edged closer.

“This is my fault.”

You’re wrong.

I tried to touch her shoulder.

I haven’t even made contact with her, but she flinched.

“H—Hiyori, this isn’t your—”

She spun around and slapped my hand away.

It _wasn’t_ the motion— _nor_ the fact that she rejected my touch, not even the scratch she gave me—that disturbed me.

It was the _blight_ on the wounds on my wrist, and the look she gave me.

She glared at me with an intense fury I had never seen on her before.

Her Cord bristled and raised, her eyes filled with despair and rage and fear, her fingers arched and ready to claw, her teeth bared and grinding together.

Just like a cat cornered; with nowhere to go, its only option is to fight, even if it meant injury...

Or _death_.

I felt in my chest that Yukine’s reaction mirrored mine.

For a moment, Hiyori seemed surprised at what she just did.

But the expression was fleeting, and she covered her face with her hands as though in shame, backed away, and braced herself against the open window.

It was only then that I noticed that her hands were splattered with _blood_.

“Hiyori...” I tried to get near her, reach for her, console her, “Hey...”

Her Cord has become more dishevelled than ever.

“It’s my fault!” she blurted out, the last sounds becoming a miserable cry, and in a split second she was over the window sill and kicked off.

I tried to stop her, calling her name—as I wanted to call Yukine’s name during his ablution—hoping it would save her too, “Hiyori!”

However, it seemed she can’t hear me anymore.

The ayakashi still chased her, even while she was still airborne, whispering, “That’s right, you did this... This is your fault!”

I viciously hissed “Shut up, Dad!” to the filthy vermin, for I knew it was him talking through those hideous things.

She landed on the concrete on her feet, and continued running away.

Of course, I’ll chase after her.

I climbed onto the window sill, bracing myself for the long fall.

“Wait, Yato!”

Yukine?

“Don’t you think there was something a bit off with Hiyori?!?”

I _know_ that.

 “Y—yeah. Up until now, Hiyori’s been perched on the boundary between the Near and Far Shores... but now she’s started to lean towards the Far side...”

I _knew_ from the moment she _blighted_ me.

“So that mark on your hand is from Hiyori blighting you?!?” I clearly felt Yukine’s alarm, “She’s become an ayakashi?!?”

I jumped off the window, landed in a throng of mingled bystanders and victims and their families, sprang right up and hurtled through the crowd.

“We’re gonna stop her before that happens!”

“How?!? Purify her with water?!? Imprison her?!?”

His agitation is starting to get into me too, even without feeling it darting at me through our connection myself.

“We can’t do that. Hiyori’s only half-ayakashi—”

It was hard enough to weave through the Near Shore people without bumping on them, but just then, Yukine dropped the most important question.

“So, what then? We’ve just gotta kill her or something?!?”

And that was enough to make me _stop_ , make me _think_ , make me _realize_ something.

That I can’t do anything.

I can’t do anything, because I don’t want _Yukine_ to lose her—I remember that time when he cried because he knew and he was afraid of the possibility that she’d forget him, us, when she’d grown older.

I can’t do anything, because I don’t want _her_ to lose the long life she’s yet to live.

I can’t do anything, because _I_ don’t want to lose her.

“Sever her Cord, or sever her ties,” the distorted-eel shape of an ayakashi passed by on my right, speaking words that only Father would say, “If you do that, you can save her—”

I hated to admit it, even to myself, that he might be right.

But—

I cut the monster down before it can say anything else, “How the hell would that be saving her?!?”

Father will not in any way understand.

I lifted the Sekki to the sky, its beautiful, silver blade catching the sunlight.

No—there can’t be just two choices.

“There’s gotta be something I can do… without resorting to that…”

Even though I said that—

The Near Shore people around me have begun to raise a ruckus, which may turn into a riot soon, so that they needed to be cordoned off the area. Some were even taking to social media to spread the bad news.

Could it get any worse?

Even though I said that there has to be another way—

How can I save Hiyori?

* * *

_Hiyori once told me that she wanted to be a doctor._

_But when her career path survey came—even as her summer break came close to its end—she hasn’t written anything._

_She said she wasn’t sure about it; she wasn’t sure if that’s what she really wanted; she was afraid to even answer the question ‘What would I like to do?’._

_She said she was envious of Yukine, because he had a lot of things he wanted to do._

_She said that it was natural that she’d desire to be a doctor because her brother just left them after college to escape that fate, because it’s what she wanted since she was a child, because it would make everyone happy._

_I should have told her that she should also think about what makes her happy._

_She said that what stops her from writing down the medical school of her choice, from going down that path, was her belief that she lacked the necessary resolve to become a doctor that everyone can depend on._

_I was so happy she confided in me, but being the chronically unemployed god that I am, I just advised her as best I could._

  1. _A job is doing something you hate, not something you like._
  2. _It’s something far in the future, so she shouldn’t rush it._



_I could have sworn her eyes were sparkling when she told me that she was surprised that I answered her seriously._

_I reminded her that she could tell me her worries, if anything happened to her._

_Because—_

* * *

After going around Heaven knows how many blocks, I finally found her.

In a short alley connected to a parking lot, she crouched facing the darkness, her hands pressed to her ears as if she were plagued by a noise only she could hear.

Her breathing was uneven; she was crying so much.

The blight on my wrist still stung.

I want to be able to help you, Hiyori—

I tried again.

“Hiyori…”

She flinched again.

—so let me help you!

I stuck the Sekki in the concrete at the mouth of the alley, to let her know I do not wish to harm her.

Yukine must have realized what I was trying to do, because he shot cold apprehension through me.

I stepped forward, “A—Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond.

“I—I’m not sure what to say.”

The Sekki was, by then, behind me and yet I still ventured another step forward.

“This was all because of me. It wasn’t your fault! If I’d just pulled myself together and stopped my father… this wouldn’t have happened…”

I opened my arms out to her—a gesture of welcome, a beacon of safety, a flag of vulnerability.

“Hiyori, I’m sorr—”

She stirred, and I thought I finally got through her.

I was _so_ wrong.

She stood before us: her eyes hollow, her cheeks wet with tears, her ears have taken a new form, her Cord soiled with moth ayakashi.

“Ya—Yato… Hiyori’s—”

Yukine’s pure horror choked me as we beheld her.

It can’t be.

This _can’t_ be.

I heard her gnash her teeth together, saw her lunge for me—and I don’t know if it’s the shock or I just couldn’t react fast enough—

“Smells good!”

I could only raise my arms to shield my head, my neck, my torso—and it was a good thing I did, because if I didn’t, she could have cut my head off instead of biting my arm.

I gasped in pain.

Where she’d bitten me on my left arm, a large patch of blight grew: from the top of my elbow to my shoulder.

“Sh—She bit you?!?”

Yukine sounded incredulous, as if seeing her now—and what she can do—hasn’t registered to him yet.

“This is bad…” I ground out through the burn of yet another site of blight.

She’s crossing farther over.

And it has become _more_ obvious as well; she was poised on top of a van like a wild cat assessing her prey.

But she _shouldn’t_ —

I went for the rooftop on my right, the damned moth ayakashi forming a pesky trail in my wake.

“You can’t cross over, Hiyori! At this rate, you’ll never be able to go back!”

Listen to me!

She leapt off the van, and started sprinting for me, looking like she’s short on air and off-balanced, “No—I can’t go back…”

What are you saying?

You have your family, your friends—

“Help me…”

I’m trying—

“Don’t leave me! Take me with you!”

I—

She looked _absolutely_ desperate.

I kept slapping at the small fry around me, but I had to concentrate on Hiyori.

“R—Revert, Yukine! You take care of these pests!”

“L—Leave it to me—” the double blades reformed into the boy that is Yukine, “But what about you?”

I don’t know.

I’m not sure.

What do _I_ do?

* * *

_Sakura—she looked like this back then, on that fateful day._

_She blighted me too, and because I was so small back then, I almost passed out from the hell the blight gave me._

_And I did something that shattered my heart into a million pieces._

_Something I can never take back; something I greatly regret to this day; something that, for the longest time, made me unable to look at the sakura that bloomed every spring._

_Though Hiyori isn’t a Shinki, though she isn’t a Karma ayakashi, she was suffering so much; the ongoing transition streaked permanent tear stains on her face._

_I will not repeat that mistake again._

* * *

I had barely a second to realize that she was again upon me, aiming for my jugular.

Acting on instinct, I grabbed her wrist and pummelled her to the ground, making her growl in pain.

I was too surprised with what I did that I stuttered out “S—Sorry!” and let her go.

I soon learned the consequences when she scratched me across my left cheek, blighting that place as well—

I grimaced as the accursed blight spread to my ear and a fourth of my face.

“H—Hiyori, stop it!”

—and when Yukine, sent into a nervous panic by seeing Hiyori getting up to attack me again, sent a Boundary slicing at her legs.

She shrieked and fell back on her haunches, breathing heavily, while I yelped in pain as a sharp stab of pain erupted in the back of my neck.

Yukine was startled, to say the least.

“Ah! I—I’m sorry, both of you! I didn’t mean to!”

I _know_ , he _didn’t_ mean it; it’s because—

“Yukine stung me… He  doesn’t want to do this either,” I gingerly held my face and gritted my teeth as a pounding pain started to form in my head, still trying to focus on Hiyori and on getting enough air in my system, “Damn it, what the hell do I even do?!?”

“Yaboku…”

It was my turn to flinch at the sound of my name.

It came from one of the moth ayakashi. 

“I’ll tell you what you can do…”

Whatever _you_ have to say, Father, I can tell that it’s going to be complete, utter bullsh—

“Make Hiyori your Shinki.”

What?!?

Do you even understand the implicatio—

“Kill her, and summon her soul to your side. I’m sure she’d be elated by that…” 

‘ _Elated_ ’?!?

“But if you can’t handle a tainted soul like hers, I could lend you the Koto no Ha to make her do whatever you want.”

Making me choose between killing her and turning her into a puppet—

You think that will save her?!?

You think that will make her happy?!?

“Sekki!”

With Sekki in hand, I jumped and made to slice that ayakashi that broadcasted Father’s voice.

I have to make him _shut up_ —

“You’d turn that girl away from your merry band of followers?”

I’m not—

“From now on, she’s going to bear nothing but scrutiny and ridicule. Not only that, but she’s going to have to live in the shadow of her parents’ crimes her entire life…”

“Because of you!” I roared back at him.

And because of _me_ , a god of calamity.

“It’s what she desires.”

No!

“She has a brutal life ahead of her. That you’d know that and still reject her is nothing short of abject cruelty.”

And what do _you_ think of _yourself_ , Father?

Do you think you’re such a benevolent—

“Hiyori wants to be with you—”

What?

“—so be a good god and grant her wish.”

Stupefied, I fell back to earth, disposal of the ayakashi forgotten.

“Hiyori’s… wish? Is—”

Yukine gave me an unspoken warning of danger, but I was too absorbed, too dazed by what Father just said to act on the alarm bells my Shinki sent me.

“Is that what it is—”

I felt her arms around me, her cool body beside me, her breath heavy on my neck a second too late.

I could only scream as she sank her teeth in.

All sense left me, and I could barely hear Yukine—only that he was screaming too.

* * *

_Sakura—she taught me many things._

_Things I never learned from Father or Hiiro._

_One of those was: people die._

_Of accident, of disaster, of sickness, of old age—people die._

_Even if I didn’t kill them, people die._

_And that—death—was irrevocable._

_That meant you will never see them again._

* * *

Too much.

The pain is _too_ much.

It was painful enough that my vision blurred at the edges and I dropped the Sekki’s long blade as we fell back to the pavement below.

The next thing I knew, she had me against the ground and the post boxes, and without a second thought, she sprang on me again.

Needless to say, my position was compromised.

I lifted the short blade to her neck, and she went still.

If I wanted to save my own life, I _can_ slit her throat right then—regardless of whether the Sekki went blunt on me or not.

Hiyori.

Blood— _my blood_ —stained her chin.

Even now, she’s still crying.

Still breathing heavily, as though she was tired of living.

What Father said—even if it were true—

“I’m sorry.”

I ignored the anxiousness vibrating along the length of the sword.

And I dropped my last blade, let it clatter on the ground.

So I can hold her quivering body in my arms.

“Hiyori.”

Please don’t forget your name.

“Hiyori, I’m sorry…”

She _has_ to hear me.

I _don’t_ care if she’s dangerously close to my throat, to my chest—but she _has_ to hear me.

She _has_ to come back.

She has to know that it isn’t _her_ fault; it’s mine.

“I want to do what you want, but… this is one wish I just can’t grant.”

For you, I could grant any wish, but this—

“If… if you die,” I dared close my eyes, and saw my younger self with my first Shinki, my first real friend, “there are a lot of people you’ll never see again…”

Your parents, your brother, your friends—even _if_ you got to see them after you die, you _won’t_ remember them.

“Th—That’s why… you can’t cross over yet.”

They’re waiting for you.

“Not—not until… you’re old and gray, Hiyori.”

When you’ve done all that you could with your life.

And not this way.

She hasn’t moved, hasn’t responded, so I went on.

Gently, I patted her back and smoothed her hair, and continued with a small smile, “It’s okay… _You’re_ okay! Because, now, you have time to make things right.”

You have dreams, right?

Big dreams.

Reach for them and make them come true.

“You’ve got _plenty_ of people who care about you.”

And if you stumble, if you fall, they’ll help you get back up, no matter how many times, that’s for sure!

“So, go home…”

I was a bit astounded when my right sleeve became damp, and I knew she was sobbing.

But the negativity from her has disappeared, and I knew that she had, _finally_ , come back.

A ripple of pain went through me, and I shuddered, clamping my mouth on the cry of pain that tried to escape.

I can barely retain my consciousness.

She must have sensed my distress, because she rose and put both of her hands on my shoulder—near the spot on my neck that she bit—as though it will cleanse the blight there.

I looked at her hands, then at her.

Her eyes had turned clear, their light restored, albeit tears still fell from them.

At last, she was smiling again.

Is that—

Joy?

Relief?

Gratitude?

She nodded, and disappeared as a floating, dazzling light.

I heaved a sigh, and allowed myself to—finally—slump back on the ground, exhaustion and pain seizing hold of my entirety.

“I wonder if this was for the best…”

She and her family _will_ go through hard times from now on.

I lightly touched the bandaged hilt of the Sekki, but he gave me no answer.

What if I sentenced her to that kind of life?

“Was I actually able to save Hiyori... or did I just abandon her?”

Yukine was hesitating.

But I wanted to hear what he thought, what he felt, because only Regalia—former humans—could understand the plight of other humans.

“Pass judgement on me, my Hafuri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you throughly wrecked now? *chuckles sadistically* *chokes*
> 
> I'd like to apologize for the headache-inducing flow of Hiyori's POV. But, while writing, I supposed it was alright because she was so disoriented as she was undergoing the transition. So... it's okay? *dodges shots fired*
> 
> For Yato's POV, my only worry is the way I ended it. I think it's a bit awkward. Also, just to clarify (because I thought some will protest):  
> 1\. I said Sakura was Yato's first Shinki because she's the first Shinki he found (or was it Sakura who found him? *cries*) and named ON HIS OWN. It's not the same as when he named Hiiro.  
> 2\. I said Sakura was Yato's first friend, because (let's face it) I think Hiiro just stuck with him because their Father ordered them to, and because Hiiro wanted praises from Father.


End file.
